Sherlock: Leah and the London Gangsters (EP 1)
by Leah D'Argento
Summary: All Leah Silver wanted was to escape her dreary life in the States and do a study abroad in England. She lands an apartment with the enigmatic Sherlock Holmes, who she has never heard before but is apparently famous. Her presence puts Sherlock off and he does everything he can to drive her away, even pulling her into a case. (Based after Sherlock Series 2) UPDATES ON MONDAYS
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1: The Arrival**

The plane touched down gently onto the runway of Heathrow airport with a round of applause from the passengers. The long flight had successfully traveled from Chicago and many of the passengers felt ready to start their adventures in the good, old country of England. Many passengers were excited tourists, people reuniting with families, and regulars of the travel circuit. Only one person felt out of place among the chatter of sights to see and places to visit: Leah Silver.

Leah Silver was a twenty-year old young woman with gray eyes and brown hair pulled up in a bun for traveling. She sat in the middle aisle among two different tourist groups feeling like the black dot among happy yellow dots. In her hands she clutched her passport and a student's visa, which was the real reason why she was coming to England. A prickle of anxious excitement gripped her rather than the general excitement running through the plane.

No one among the plane really noticed the shy girl as they readied themselves to disembark. In reality, Leah was a very outgoing person, kind of loud but smart. This transformation from outgoing to shy in groups had stemmed from an experience from her old life, a life she was all too ready to leave behind. As Leah prepared herself to grab her carry-on bag and leave the plane she observed the rest of the cabin. She understood the great anticipation to get out and explore the great land of England, but all she could think of for now was the prospect of getting to a bed and sleeping off the jetlag.

When the plane finally checked into the gate Leah found herself following the crowds to enter Heathrow airport to find luggage and set out. She smiled kindly to the flight attendants as she left and even shook hands with several of the passengers she had been sitting next to on the long flight. Soon every passenger had split to different groups and directions and Leah was left scrambling to get through customs and grab her large suitcase.

Through the fast paced motions of the airport, which seemed much like Chicago in some ways, Leah found herself stumbling through the airport and out into an open line of waiting taxis. Through her stumbling, Leah had purchased and acquired maps of London and of the Tube, but she felt that a taxi might do for her first entry into London. The weather was nice with the sun placed squarely in a light sky with few clouds hanging around. The air was warm and clear and in the distance the sounds of busy traffic and city life beckoned to be explored.

Leah approached the first taxi she saw. It was a standard taxi cab that was in England: black and elegant with the taxi sign above it glowing an artificial yellow and the driver stood outside it, smoking a cigarette.

"Excuse me." Leah asked as she approached him. "Are you operating?" She asked slowly. Despite living in places like New York and Chicago, Leah had never found herself ever getting a taxi. Her father used to do those things, before he had passed away. Her mother used a chauffeur.

"You a tourist?" The driver asked in a thick British accent. He flicked his cigarette to the ground and subbed it out with his foot.

"A student." Leah replied flatly.

The cab driver smiled slightly as he fished his keys out of his pocket and nodded. "A student? Coming from across the pond!" He chuckled to himself as he helped Leah place her luggage in the back of the cab.

"Yeah. Crazy." Leah chuckled softly as she got into the cab followed by the driver.

"So where to?" He asked as the cab started up.

"Baker Street please."

John Watson was not happy. To be more accurate to what he was feeling, he felt irritable and nervous about the task ahead of him. He sat in the kitchen of Mrs. Hudson on 221 B Baker Street with a cup of tea steaming next to him. Mrs. Hudson was busy making the kitchen area more presentable. She put a plate of biscuits on the table and added more tea cups. She replaced the hot water in the teapot two times and smiled hastily at John who watched the door to the building through the open kitchen door.

"How many people are we interviewing today?" Mrs. Hudson asked as she finally took a seat next to John.

"As many as we can. And who ever shows up." John replied looking at his watch.

"And Sherlock won't come home?"

"I told Mycroft to keep him busy for a bit. Though I'm pretty sure he knows what's happening." John smiled at Mrs. Hudson who smiled and gave a soft chuckle. John Watson grew serious as he thought about what exactly they were doing.

After a few months of Sherlock Holmes returning to life, John and Mrs. Hudson had been given permission to let out the room that used to be inhabited by John. John had moved on after Sherlock's faked death and had found a new home and a new love that he was soon to marry. For a long time Sherlock had refused Mrs. Hudson to let the extra room and it took a lot of persuasion from not only John and Mrs. Hudson, but also from Sherlock's brother Mycroft and even Mary, John's fiance. Now here they were, interviewing prospective flatmates for the eccentric and famous Sherlock Holmes.

There was a knock on the door outside the kitchen. John snapped out of his thinking and watched as Mrs. Hudson went to go and open the door. The Interviews had begun.

"Are you capable of paying the rent?" Was John's first question at the beginning of each interview.

"Is Sherlock here? This is his flat right?"

"Where's Sherlock Holmes?"

"Are you even old enough to rent a flat?" John looked skeptically at one of the interviewers.

"Oh I always wear this hat. It's my favorite."

"Absolutely not, Anderson!"

"Do you want to hear anything else about the apartment?" Mrs Hudson would ask after people would rant and rave about Sherlock Holmes.

"Do you know who Sherlock Holmes is?" John started to ask this question first.

"Well duh! Who doesn't?"

"Is he here?"

"Where's Sherlock?"

"Sherlock!"

"Who?"

Both John and Mrs. Hudson snapped out of their respective comas and stared bewildered at the young girl sitting in front of them. She looked at them with a perplexed expression and waited for an explanation.

"What, what was your name again?" John asked as he began to flip through the large pile of contract applications on the table.

"Leah Silver." The girl, obviously American, replied. "We talked over e-mail mostly. I think I called once." She said as she watched John finally fish out the pile of correspondences and smile are her.

"You don't know Sherlock?" Mrs. Hudson asked.

"No." Leah replied.

"Don't you watch the news?" Mrs. Hudson asked as if Leah was some alien from outer space.

"I'm trying to double major in Math and English. I hardly have the time to read a good book. I don't know what's even going on in my own country." Leah laughed at her educational obliviousness and Mrs. Hudson nodded.

"So you're a student." John cut in. He had looked through the piles of emails he had printed off. "What university are you going to attend?"

"University of the Arts London." Leah replied quickly. She had rehearsed the name so many times that it now felt as familiar as her old school had. Granted she had only stayed for two years on that school and she had almost a few more years till she graduated. Then it was graduate school. Her timeline made her smile and she found that John was smiling with her.

"Of course I'll be commuting. Using the Tube, taxis, buses. Commuting." She nodded along with her awkward comment on commuting and John just smiled.

"Are you okay with a man being your flatmate?" Mrs. Hudson asked. She seemed a little apprehensive about Leah being the choice, but she could tell that John was thinking it over.

"Is he a creeper?" Leah asked and both Mrs. Hudson and John started a little. "Like am I going to have to worry if he gets creepy? I've had some experiences." Leah added the last part quickly to try and change the devastated look on Mrs. Hudson's face. "I had a stalker in Chicago."

"Um, no he is not a 'creeper'. He's just peculiar. I'll be over sometimes so you won't have to worry about anything." John said as he placed the e-mails on the stack of applications.

"So I have the room?" Leah asked. She leaned into the table and looked at John intently.

"Why not have a dorm with girls your own age?" Mrs. Hudson murmured. Obviously she was curious. "Are you a serial killer?"

"Mrs Hudson!" John cried and stared at her with wide shocked eyes. Even Leah looked somewhat shocked and for a moment silence descended on the table.

"Uh no I am not a serial killer. I had a really bad experience last year involving the creepy stalker guy and my roommates. I would rather have a peculiar male roommate than three vindictive girls." Leah answered the question as well as she could without divulging any of her past life. She didn't need people knowing about the stresses that she had in that life.

"Why don't you wait out in the hall." John said and Leah nodded. "We'll discuss it for a little bit and then let you know."

Leah got up from the table and headed out into the hall and sat on the stairs. She looked around the small hallway and then up the stairs where light was coming in from a window. It cast about dust motes and shadows that fascinated Leah tremendously. What was so wrong with living with a man named Sherlock Holmes? Was he a celebrity? Or was he one of those infamous celebrities. She contemplated this as she tried to ignore the flurry of whispers coming from the little kitchen around the corner from her.

"I like her." John whispered quickly to Mrs. Hudson as Leah left the room.

"I don't think Sherlock would like having a girl living with him." Mrs. Hudson muttered in reply.

"I've been talking to her through e-mails and I think she and Sherlock would benefit from being flatmates. She's obviously not a nutter like the others we've interviewed." John looked intensely at Mrs. Hudson who still continued to feel somewhat against the idea. "See it as revenge for Sherlock surprising us." John smiled and Mrs. Hudson did too.

Mrs. Hudson was more than happy to have Sherlock Holmes back from the dead. But two years of thinking he had been gone had taken a toll on her. She always treated him like he had never been gone, but she had been somewhat upset by his sudden reappearance. She recalled Leah's explanation of having a bad flatmates before and began thinking like John. Perhaps this would be good for her and Sherlock. It would be a bonus to have another woman in the house too.

"Okay." She said and John's smile grew immensely.

"Leah, you can come back." John called through the kitchen. Immediately Leah was back to sitting across from the two of them. Her eyes were wide with anticipation.

"You may have the room." Mrs. Hudson said after getting a nod from John.

"Seriously? Oh wow! Thank you!" Leah vigorously shook hands with both John and Mrs. Hudson. She couldn't recall the last time she had felt so happy.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks everyone for coming by and reading! Please feel free to suggest this story to other readers. Leave a review if you can!**

Chapter Two: I'm Your Flatmate

Leah spent her first couple of nights staying in a hotel not far from Baker Street. She spent the day after the flat interview acclimating to the time change and studying the various maps she had of the Tube and of London. The next day she had gone back to 221 B to look at the room with Mrs. Hudson.

"Now Sherlock has furnished most of the apartment." Mrs. Hudson explained as she led the way up into the flat.

"That's cool. I won't have to buy that much furniture then." Leah replied.

The two entered the flat and Leah blinked in amazement. The living room was in a state of controlled chaos. It kind of felt homey as well. There was a long couch against the wall to her right and then a few armchairs and a coffee table next to the fireplace on her left. There some bookshelves next to the fireplace and she was overjoyed at the amount of books on them. There were many tables cluttered with different papers and objects that made Leah extremely curious. The kitchen was in a state of moderate cleanliness. Though there were some chemistry tools on the table and a beaker full of dark liquid bubbled on a burner. Leah wondered if Sherlock was home, but her answer came immediately as Mrs. Hudson tsked and turned the burner off.

"That man," She mumbled. "He tends to leave his experiments everywhere. Which reminds me." She turned and looked at Leah. "You may want to get one of those portable refrigerators." Leah nodded mutely and followed Mrs. Hudson up one more set of stairs to where her room would be.

It was a considerably sized room. There was a closet, a dresser, and a large window facing the street below them. Leah walked across the room to look down into the bustling street and smiled. It was a nice room and it would help immensely for her studies.

"Okay so I need to get a bed, a desk, some bed sheets and blankets, and possibly a door mirror." She began muttering to herself the things she needed for her room and Mrs. Hudson smiled patiently.

"Oh how much money do you have?" Mrs. Hudson asked, stopping Leah in mid sentence of her list. "If you don't mind me asking." The older woman blushed.

"Oh no not at all." Leah said. She leaned against the wall next to the window. "I guess I had an uncle who lived here and he died and left me a large sum of money in pounds. At the time I was going through my problems and so I decided to leave it and use it for my schooling here."

"You guess you had an uncle?" Mrs. Hudson looked confused.

Leah herself looked slightly confused as she thought about it. "My mom, she's originally from North England, York or something. I asked her about it because I got a letter in the mail. She said that she didn't have any siblings. I talked to one of my dad's old business partners and he said that I should still keep it." Leah explained. She still felt as confused as Mrs. Hudson looked.

"Do you even know if this man was your uncle?"

"I don't know. There's something that I'm missing. It's kind of the second reason why I wanted to come to England." Leah shrugged and Mrs. Hudson smiled.

"Hopefully you'll find your answer." And the matter was dropped.

For the rest of the day, Mrs. Hudson accompanied Leah as she shopped for a bed and some of the other things on her mental list for her room. After it was all done, and a delivery was set for the next day, Leah returned to her hotel room and felt dazzled by how fast everything was going. The only she worried about now was actually meeting this elusive Sherlock Holmes.

Sherlock Holmes, at the moment, was sitting in John Watson's new flat. He looked around the living room with skeptical eyes. He held his hands under his chin with his elbows resting on the arms of his chair. He waited as John finished a telephone conversation with Mary. While he waited he contemplated the living room, deciding on Mary being the one who had furnished and decorated it. Before he was driven mad by his contemplations, John came back into the room, pocketing his phone.

"Sorry about that." He said as he plopped down into a chair across from Sherlock.

"How's Mary?" Sherlock asked absentmindedly.

"She's fine." John said. He waited a few tense minutes before asking the question that had been plaguing him. "Have you met your new flatmate yet?"

Sherlock's eyes flicked to John and then back to the wall he had been staring at. He had not met the new flatmate. In a way he guessed that he didn't care. He had more than enough friends and then there was Mycroft, who had suddenly been asking favors from him.

"No I haven't." Sherlock said finally. "In fact Mrs. Hudson was supposed to show whoever it is the apartment today."

"Do you even want to meet your new flatmate? Or have you deduced who it might be?" John smiled mischievously as Sherlock just looked at him with an extremely bored expression.

"I don't have time for that." He muttered in reply.

"You have no idea who it is do you?" John chuckled, feeling very proud to have stumped his friend.

"Of course I do. Don't be daft." Sherlock snapped quickly.

"If you say so." John smiled smugly and Sherlock fumed with a dark expression. "What has Lestrade have you working on? You said you needed my help."

Sherlock straightened in his chair and leaned forward. "It's a gang thing." He started. "One of the prominent leaders has been put in the hospital under arrest, but he hasn't spoken a word. There's been three shooting deaths around London, all gang related. This man, the leader, he has something to do with it. Despite being in custody, he's still pulling strings." He talked rather fast, but John had no problem keeping up with his speech.

"You think that he has someone sneaking in to pull out orders?" John asked. He leaned across to a coffee table and picked up a cup of tea. "Perhaps there's a mole in Lestrade's unit." He added.

"There isn't a mole." Sherlock scoffed and flumped back into his chair. "There is an insider though. Someone who is just out of my gaze." He lapsed into an intense moment of thought. John stayed quiet as he did, sipping patiently from his tea.

"Who applied for the room?" Sherlock asked suddenly. John blinked and then placed his cup back on its saucer on the table.

"A number of people. Anderson did and I told him absolutely not." John noticed Sherlock smile at the mention of the slightly crazy Anderson. "A lot of nutters mostly."

"You must have chosen someone who knew all about me." Sherlock smiled at John slightly. "Someone to keep an eye on me."

"Actually no. I chose someone who had no idea who you were." John felt okay for letting that slip. It didn't reveal too much about Leah.

"What?"

"The person Mrs. Hudson and I chose has no idea who you are."

Sherlock looked skeptically at John who nodded after a moment. "I'm serious. They had no idea who you were."

"That's preposterous." Sherlock concluded.

"You'll be a good match either way." John said.

"I doubt it." Sherlock scoffed again and settled back in his chair. However, he couldn't help but notice that his curiosity was peaked.

Leah arrived at 221 B Baker Street just as the things she had ordered arrived. Both Mrs. Hudson and John Watson were navigating movers to where all the furniture and other decor were to be placed.

"Hello." Leah said cheerily as she pulled her suitcase up to the step where John and Mrs. Hudson were sitting.

"Oh good, you're here." Mrs. Hudson clapped her hands together. "Sherlock is upstairs supervising the movers."

"More like observing and belittling them." John huffed. "Here let me take this." He reached and grabbed Leah's suitcase and began to follow one of the movers upstairs.

"Um, okay." Leah had reached instinctively for her suitcase but hesitantly let John take it. She followed him slowly up the stairs and was in turn followed by Mrs. Hudson.

Leah's heart thumped in her chest as she followed John. During her little reprieve from traveling and ordering and had Googled Sherlock Holmes. He was a sort of celebrity. A consultant detective, a private detective, a genius, and many other things. She had read up on his turmoil with a man named Moriarty, no picture had been provided of this man, and had faked his death to escape the intense infamy he was rising to. Now he was back and more on top of his game than ever. Leah felt a little intimidated by the prospect of Sherlock Holmes. She held her breath as she neared the open door that would soon be her home in England.

"You have a gambling problem. Your wife knows about it too." A smooth low voice called after a fuming mover. Mrs. Hudson quickly noticed and followed the mover downstairs, offering the poor man a cup of tea.

Leah stared wide eyed after the pair and then heard John chastising the voice who replied with a string of negative sentences. Two other movers hurried past Leah and she barely had time to say hello before John called for her to come up and meet Sherlock Holmes. More fear pumped into Leah as she ascended the last few steps and stood in the doorway and looked into the living room.

"Sherlock Holmes, Leah Silver." Leah looked over the man who wore a dark button up shirt and dark pants with loafers. Over one of the armchairs was a long black coat and a gray scarf. She smiled at Sherlock Holmes who looked intensely at her with his green eyes. Leah felt suddenly self conscious and rubbed her hands together in front of her.

"No." Sherlock muttered in disbelief as he looked from Leah to John.

Leah's vision snapped immediately back at Sherlock, they had been diverted to the floor in her self conscious stage. She furrowed her brow and also looked at John who did not look happy.

"Yes." John replied and Sherlock took a step closer to Leah.

No longer feeling self conscious, but rather angry, Leah stood where she was looking up at Sherlock, he was quite taller than her. (Leah reached about five foot five to Sherlock's six feet.) He looked searchingly at her and she stared back at him. She could feel her brow furrowing and eyes narrowing the more that Sherlock stared at her.

"You finding anything in particular?" Leah asked and Sherlock's mouth twitched in the corner.

Immediately Sherlock's mind went into overdrive. America. Came from Chicago. Not where she's originally from. New York or probably one of those states. Student. Right handed. Anxious. His eyes darted to different features of Leah as he came up with a simple analysis of her. He deemed her extremely ordinary and took a step back. He noticed the fierce look on her face and was taken aback slightly. Perhaps extremely ordinary wasn't the correct term.

"You done?" Leah asked.

"Yes." Sherlock replied. "You can't possibly be living here."

Leah looked a little offended and John just looked embarrassed.

"Yeah well I am and I'm going to tell you to suck it up." Leah patted Sherlock's arm and grabbed her suitcase and began hefting it up the second flight of stairs.

Sherlock and John stared after her with wide eyes and shocked expressions. Leah had some problems hefting the suitcase, but in a matter of moments she was in her room and setting up her new living space.

"Suck it up?" Sherlock looked at John who was trying hard to suppress his laughter. "Oh yes John, she's a perfect fit." The sarcasm dripped off this last sentence as Sherlock turned and sat in one of the arm chairs in the living room.

"Give it a go Sherlock." John sighed after his laughing fit. "She really needs a calm place to live."

"And how do you know?"

John here hesitated. For a matter of fact, John knew more about Leah's past problems because of the e-mails they shared before she had come to England. He knew about her intense need to be in a place that she didn't dread to come home to. She needed a flatmate who wasn't out to get her and who had friends that didn't stalk her. Well the stalking was something John was curious about, and he knew from Mrs. Hudson about the need to find out about the English side of her family. Something else was also bothering her, it wasn't that hard to see.

"She just needs some good friends." John said, skirting over the matter.

"I don't need anymore friends." Sherlock muttered.

"Yes well she does."

In their pause, Leah came thumping down the stairs. Unbeknownst to the two men she had been standing on the landing of the stairs, listening to their small conversation.

"How does the room look?" John asked, trying to look cheerful.

"It looks great. Just got to get settled." Leah said though she noticed that Sherlock gave her a skeptical look.

"I'm going to go and see if Mrs. Hudson needs some help." John quickly made his escape, barely missing the dark look that both Sherlock and Leah shot them.

For a moment there was only silence. Leah shuffled on her feet and then headed towards the bookcase to get a closer look at the books it held. Sherlock watched her closely, his hands clutching the arms of his chair. He began to make more noticeable observations about Leah. One thing he noticed was the uncomfortable twinge she had and the darting looks she gave him as she checked out some of the books. He recalled her suitcase and how her name had been written on the tag, but it had not been her handwriting and it had been considerably faded. It must have been important if she had kept it so long. He came to a conclusion as Leah made her way across the mantle of the fireplace, looking at the different objects on display.

"How long has your father been dead?" Leah froze and she dropped her arms and began to wring her hands together.

"Five years." She replied in a low tone.

"How did he die? Must be something tragic. Car accident? Murder?"

"Both." The reply came out more bitterly than Leah had planned it. "A drunk driver hit my dad. But I feel like my mother had something to do with it. Her and her friend." It was more than Leah had wanted to tell. A small blush flourished on her cheeks and Sherlock noted it.

"You and your mother are not on good terms. Does she know you're in England?" Sherlock was finding this more and more interesting.

"She didn't even know I was going to school in Chicago. She thought I stayed in New York." Leah sat down in an armchair across from Sherlock and watched as he looked at her and then out the window.

"I'll find out." Sherlock said and Leah started.

"Find out what?"

"If your father was really murdered."

"You don't have to-"

"Nonsense, it'll be easy. I'll make some time to do it. Apart from the hospitalized gangster." Sherlock shifted his eyes as he thought about that gangster. Leah looked as if a small plane had circled her three times too fast.

"What?"

John came bounding up the stairs at that moment and grinned at the two. "Let's go eat!"


	3. Chapter 3

Hey all! Thanks for joining in on the next chapter! This chapter contains one of my favorite written moments of this episode! Thank you for reading and please review if you can!

 **Chapter 3: Getting Settled and Sherlock Take a Pill**

The three of them shared a taxi to a restaurant that was new in the city. John's fiancee Mary joined them as they approached the restaurant. She was a tall woman with short blond hair and dazzlingly bright eyes. She wore a nice green blouse with long dress pants and high heeled shoes. Out of the four of them, Leah noticed, Mary was probably the best dressed for the restaurant.

Throughout the cab ride and the wait for food, Leah felt somewhat uncomfortable and out of place. She watched John and Mary talking to each other about their days and answered questions when Mary wanted to learn more about her. However Sherlock spent time rummaging through his phone or looking around at people in the dining hall. When the food arrived, Leah felt relieved and started in on her dish.

"So, Leah," Mary said after all of them had started to eat. "Where are you from?"

Leah finished the bite she had started and thought for a moment. "Originally, New York. But I've been living in Chicago for a while."

"Oh how was it?" Mary looked interested in hearing about it.

"It was a little crowded in Chicago, but I lived in a really good dorm. The school was great too, but I just had to get out." Leah sipped from her glass of water. "It was very different from New York. My dad used to be an executive of a company so we lived in the really nice part of New York. After high school I just had to leave."

"Did you tell your mother where you were going to school?" Everyone looked at Sherlock who was now staring intently at Leah.

"She thought I was going to NYU." Leah admitted after a long pause. "She knows that I was actually at school in Chicago."

"She doesn't know you're here." Sherlock concluded and John looked at him incredulously.

"No. She doesn't." Leah felt a swirl of anxiety in her stomach. She no longer had an appetite and just continued to sip from her water glass. She had never told her mother about her school life. After she had turned ten their relationship had turned somewhat sour, and it got even worse when her father passed away. Leah never told her mother anything, and she wanted it to stay that way.

"What are you studying then?" Mary asked, intending to change the subject. She gave Sherlock a knowing look and then looked at Leah who smiled appreciatively.

"I'm double majoring in math and English." Leah said.

"Math and English?" Mary chuckled. "That's quite the wide range of study!"

"It's like forcing the identical sides of magnets together, but I love it." Leah replied. "I love the logical sense of math but feel pulled to the creative thinking of English. Math has some many right answers while English can have many. It's quite extraordinary if you think about it."

"It must be if you're crazy enough to do it." John said and the table was full of chuckling. The only one not chuckling was Sherlock, which Leah was getting used to.

The night was spent just talking and helping Leah along with getting used to English society. Mary offered to take Leah shopping for more clothes and different things to get ready for school, though there were three months till the semester started. The uncomfortable feelings Leah had been feeling had lessened throughout the night, but now they were more focused towards Sherlock, who had spent the evening in contemplating silence. When the dinner was over, he excused himself to go and work on a case he was working on with Scotland Yard.

"Good to see you Sherlock." Mary said as he quickly left the restaurant.

"He's strange." Leah remarked as Sherlock sped off into the darkness.

"Yes well at least that's all you think." John said as he waved for a taxi to take all three of them home.

At the end of the night, and once her room had been put in some sort of order, Leah sat on her bed and looked out of the window. The realization of where she was and what she was doing had suddenly hit. She felt an overwhelming feeling of dizziness that almost overtook the one of excitement that had followed it. She wondered about Sherlock and how he had said that he would look into her father's death. She wondered what he would find and if it would ruin her life or maybe bring relief. She hoped for the latter, but if ruin was in her future, she was okay with it.

In the past few years so much had happened to Leah that she felt if anything bad happened she could get through it. She had changed a lot from a regular young adult into someone hardened to face the realities of life and to push things like ruin aside and continue to live. She did miss the bubbly girl that was loud and sort of in people's faces. She thought that maybe that girl would return and coexist with the reality of her new self. She doubted it and chuckled at the thought of ever being the same person as before. That before time of when her father was still alive.

With these thoughts, Leah went to bed.

From the restaurant, Sherlock went straight to Parliament. He saw the homeless man standing with a cup for change on the sidewalk as the taxi pulled up to let him out. Sherlock immediately came to the man, dropped some money into his cup along with a note, and sauntered off. The homeless man watched him for a moment before looking into the cup and pulling out the note. Before Sherlock had hit the end of the bridge away from Parliament, the homeless man was gone.

With a small smile, Sherlock hailed another taxi and gave an address quickly to the driver. He enjoyed the silent ride to where he was going. It provided him time to think of the task at hand.

Three shooting deaths. All gang related. However there was one hangup: The gang leader was in the hospital under police observation. The leader, a skinny Italian born man named Roland Struthers, was not allowed to have visitors. Those who did have access to the room were police, authorized nurses, and of course his doctors. Yet, the man would look at them smugly as his rise to infamy continued. All three deaths happened in the middle of the night and were enemies of Roland's gang. All three had been rivals in different gangs. It all seemed happenstance, but Sherlock knew that there was no happenstance. Something far more sinister was going on.

The taxi dropped Sherlock off at a hospital in the heart of London. He paid the driver and silently entered the building. Right away he found Lestrade talking to one of his officers in a low tone.

"Anymore shootings?" Sherlock asked and Lestrade, a tall man with light hair and in his late thirties, early forties, shook his head.

"I have undercovers watching all of the rival gangs. Nothing has happened yet." He told him.

"What about Struthers? Has he talked yet?" Roland Struthers was recovering a few floors up from multiple gunshot wounds and broken bones from a gun fight with the police.

"No, he's just sitting there with a dumb smile on his face." Lestrade said this bitterly and Sherlock sighed.

They were getting nowhere and fast.

"I have people looking into the shootings." Sherlock remarked after a brief pause between the two.

"Who?" Lestrade asked.

"People." Sherlock replied.

Lestrade accepted this answer and turned to one of his officers who had some updates on current situation. Under his breath he swore and Sherlock waited patiently to hear what had happened.

"Another shooting." Sherlock said once the officer walked away. Lestrade nodded. "Where?"

"Piccadilly, right in the middle of the street." Lestrade looked frustrated and angry. He looked at Sherlock who only looked down the hallway where boisterous laughter was coming from an open door.

"He knows." Sherlock muttered.

"He always knows." Lestrade agreed.

"We should find out why." Sherlock lead the way down to the room were a bandaged skinny man laid chortling to himself. He looked at Sherlock and Lestrade and broke out again into laughter.

"Who was it this time?" The man, Roland Struthers, asked. "I hope it was that rat Benjamin."

The two men said nothing as the looked intently at the giggling gang leader. He looked rough: bruised and bandaged all over. The bed blanket was pulled up to his waist and he sat up, straightening his hospital shirt. There was no question that he knew what was going on. His smug face and authoritative posture proved that. The total count of the dead now reached four.

"Why do you hope it's Benjamin?" Lestrade asked. "Nothing has happened."

"Is that so?" Roland smiled mischievously and leaned back in his bed. "I think something has happened. I think Benjamin is dead."

"And why do you think that?" Sherlock took a step towards the bed.

"Because I ordered it. I told you, Mr. Holmes, even though I'm in police custody, my will will be done." He now sneered at the private detective who only looked solemn in reply. "How do I get you to believe me?"

"You'll have to do something drastic." Sherlock muttered as he turned and left the room. Lestrade followed him without another word to the laughing gangster.

The next day for Leah was spent assembling her room to perfection. It was about noon when she had finally finished unpacking her suitcase and headed downstairs to find something to eat. She had followed Mrs. Hudson's advice and ordered a personal refrigerator, but it had not arrived yet so she was faced with discovering what Sherlock had left around. This made her only a little nervous because she had already claimed some cupboard space for some food. At least she had some food that would be edible.

Leah came down the stairs and saw Sherlock pacing furiously from the window to the edge of the living room. His brow was furrowed and his hands behind his back. He was wearing a white shirt with long pants and black socks. His shoes were left by one of the arm chairs and his hair looked a little askew, like he had ran his hands through it in frustration. For a few minutes she watched from the stairs, but once she was done, she was in the kitchen.

She pulled out a box of cereal, a bowl, and a spoon. There were many different, and definitely foreign, objects on the table: test tubes, beakers boiling with different substances, and sketches of maps of London. She noticed the four red x's on them but only from a glance. She headed to the fridge, opened it up and froze. A bag of eyeballs stared back at her. With her own eyes wide, Leah shut the fridge, abandoned her bowl and spoon, and took the box of cereal into the living room. She placed herself in an armchair and watched Sherlock as she ate the cereal right out of the box.

"You need anything?" Leah asked after a long set of five minutes had ticked on by. Sherlock did not reply. He continued to pace.

She sighed and continued to eat her dry cereal. Downstairs a door opened and closed and soon, John came pouncing up the stairs. He saw Leah and smiled, then came and sat in the arm chair opposite her. They both turned and watched Sherlock pace.

"Has he been doing this long?" John asked.

"He was doing it when I came downstairs a little while ago." Leah replied. "How's Mary?"

"She's fine." John smiled at the mention of his future wife. "She's working at the moment. She wanted to come and see that you were doing alright."

"How nice." Leah smiled. "You can tell her I'm doing fine." John nodded and returned to watching Sherlock. He was waiting for his friend to finally notice that he was there.

"John!" Sherlock suddenly yelled. The sudden outburst caused Leah to jump and drop the handful of cereal she had on the ground. She made a face and quickly picked them up.

"Hello Sherlock. How are you?" John reclined into the chair.

"What have you found out?" Sherlock ignored the question at hand. He stood next to John, waiting to hear the reply.

"You were right, he doesn't have any visitors. I've rechecked all the background work Lestrade did and didn't find anything. I even checked into Roland's known associates and nothing suspicious has happened." John said. "The gun used to kill the four people was a pistol of rather large caliber." He added. "No one in Roland's gang uses that kind of gun."

Sherlock hissed to himself and returned to his pacing. "He knows who this is and he's trying to make himself king."

"King of the gangs?" John asked.

"Yes. And he's trying to mess with me."

John shook his head and looked at Leah who had been staring at the two with wide eyes. Her interest was suddenly peaked, but she tried to hide it as best as she could. For the few days that she had lived at 221 B, she and Sherlock had hardly talked. Leah got the impression that Sherlock did not like her and it kind of hurt. After living in a horrible situation with roommates, it was hard to see the cycle repeating again. She wanted to get along with the genius detective, but she also didn't want to get in the way.

"Any plans today Leah?" John's question barely pierced the fierce thoughts that were buzzing in Leah's head. She blinked and turned to look at him.

"Um, yes! I'm going to the National Gallery in Trafalgar Square." She said. "I love writing about paintings and it gives me a chance to use the Tube."

"That's good."

"Yes it gives me some time to actually think without you being here." John looked darkly at Sherlock who was now typing on a laptop near the window.

Leah felt a little hurt by that comment, but it didn't show on her face. Instead she shrugged at John and got up to put her cereal away. It was better to get started on her plans. The sooner she recognized the Tube and London's finer institutions, the better prepared she would be for school in the fall.

John watched as Leah ran upstairs. He looked back at Sherlock who was flicking through different pages on the internet and typing rather fast. He hated how Sherlock was treating the girl, but there could have been a reason. Perhaps Sherlock had seen the curiosity on Leah's face as they had talked about the "King of Gangs". Or perhaps he wanted to discuss something with John that required the absence of Leah. No matter, John thought, Sherlock could have been handling things better.

After a few minutes Leah came back down stairs with a bag and a jacket. She was placing her wallet in the bag when Sherlock got up once more to pace.

"Alright so the Baker Street Tube place isn't far right?" She asked.

"No it's not. Just up the street and around the corner." John explained.

"Great."

"Are you gone yet?" Sherlock stopped his pacing and looked at Leah who cocked an eyebrow at him.

"Take a pill Sherlock, I'm leaving right now." Leah replied angrily as she turned and stomped on down the stairs and out of the flat.

Sherlock stared at where Leah had been. He was processing what the young woman had said. Take a pill? Such an American. He returned to the laptop, not before glancing outside to see Leah crossing the street and walking towards the Tube Station.

"You could have been a little nicer." John said. He remained in his armchair, but glared at Sherlock.

"I needed her out of the flat." Sherlock replied.

"Why?"

"I want to do research on her mother without her here."

"Her mother?" John asked.

"Yes, she believes that her mother and a mysterious friend had something to do with her father's death." Sherlock replied. He was obviously not bugged by the accusation.

John looked confused but just shook his head. Sherlock could be the strangest person sometimes. He thought about the talk he had had with Leah and her dislike of her own mother. He patted the arms of the chair he was sitting in and watched as Sherlock typed away.

"You need anything else from me?" He asked after half an hour of sitting in silence.

"No. Thank you." He said and John nodded.

"Goodbye Sherlock."

"Goodbye John."

John was not at all surprised to see the sleek black car waiting for him outside of 221 B. He paused in the doorway before rolling his eyes. He closed the door and headed to the and got in. He was not surprised to see Mycroft Holmes sitting in it with one of his pretty girl assistants.

"Good afternoon John." Mycroft said smiling.

Mycroft Holmes was a slender man with slightly balding brown hair. He was always in a suit, due to his important work in the government, and always had an assuming look on his face. As if he knew what was going on but pretended that he didn't.

"What do you want Mycroft?" John asked.

"I heard about the new tenant living with my brother. A girl named Leah Silver. An American. What a choice you and Mrs. Hudson made." Mycoft looked at his hands and smiled slightly at John.

"Yes, she's unique." John said.

"I was wondering if it would be okay to meet her-,"

"No."

"Well why not?"

John glared at Mycroft who looked back at him with a questioning expression. "You are not asking Leah to spy on your brother."

"I don't need anyone to spy on my brother anymore John." Mycroft chuckled like the mere thought of it was a joke. "I just want to make sure that she is the right person to be living with my brother. She's not one of those nutters who are obsessed is she?"

"To tell you the truth she didn't even know who Sherlock was when we asked." John was not liking this conversation. He was also not liking where they were headed. From the looks of it, the car was heading into the city and more towards Trafalgar Square.

"Well that's amazing since my little brother has made himself a celebrity." Mycroft looked out the window and signaled to the driver to pull over.

"This is where you want to be right John?" John looked and it was indeed where he wanted to be, his own office where Mary was waiting for him to go to lunch. However, John didn't get out of the car.

"Don't do this Mycroft." John pleaded. "Leah just wants a normal life here."

"Well then she should have gotten a dorm like everyone else." Mycroft said knowingly. "Now if you would be so kind." Outside someone opened the door and John started to get out.

"She's different Mycroft." John poked his head back into the car before the door closed. "Don't be surprised."

"I won't." Mycroft replied as the door closed.

John watched from the sidewalk as the car pulled away and back into traffic. He knew Mary was standing behind him before she said anything and he turned and looked at her.

"C'mon." He grabbed her hand and began running towards the nearest Tube station.

"What's wrong?" Mary called out.

"We have to get Leah."


	4. Chapter 4

-Hello again! Thanks for reading!-

 **Chapter 4: Truth Revealed**

Leah had had a wonderful time at the National Gallery to begin with. She had walked leisurely through each room of artwork and had marveled at the great paintings that hung on the walls. She saw the local art that occupied some rooms and the art of important artists through time. People all around her seemed too busy to stop and actually look at the paintings, probably because some people had been here before or they were tourists on a tight schedule. Leah enjoyed the fact that she could take as much time as she wanted in any room.

She was sitting in a room that held a few Van Goghs and other impressionist paintings. She had been in the room before, but now she sat on a bench in front of one of the paintings deep in thought. She hadn't paid much attention to the time she had been wasting, but she couldn't really care less. There was one thing that she began to notice though.

As the minutes ticked by she noticed that people were leaving the room. One by one people mosied around the paintings, looked at Leah, and then promptly left the room. She pretended not to be bothered, but it wasn't long until she was the only person in the room. The quiet settled around her and she felt as she was being watched. The back of her neck prickled and a small feeling of anxiety began to settle in her stomach. She heard the doors to the room close and she turned to see a tall balding man in a suit standing by them. He had a small smile on his face and Leah found it somewhat creepy.

"What's up?" Leah tried to not appear freaked out.

The man chuckled lightly and then walked slowly into the room. He looked around at the paintings. He had his hands in the pockets of his suit pants. He came closer to Leah who watched him apprehensively, prepared to do anything drastic, no matter the consequences.

"Leah Silver." The man finally said.

"Yes, Mr. Creepy?" The man looked at her with some surprise but quickly composed himself.

"Do you know who I am?" He asked.

Leah now looked bored. "If I called you Mr. Creepy, then that's a no." She replied.

The man ignored her last reply and stopped only a few feet from the bench she was sitting at. "You are living with a man named Sherlock Holmes." He said. "I just want to make sure you're the right fit for him."

Leah furrowed her brow. The right fit? She started to feel slightly offended, but she waited for the man to go on.

"He's eccentric. I suppose you know what he does?" Leah nodded. "Well I don't think a young woman of your standing should be rooming with such an eccentric man. But I feel that you are already quite settled and-,"

Outside the room there was a large commotion and a knocking on the door. Both Leah and the man turned to watch as the door burst open and John and Mary came rushing in. John looked angrily at the man as Mary came rushing to Leah, who stood up from the bench and watched the commotion.

"Are you alright?" Mary whispered to Leah.

"Yeah, what's going on?" Leah whispered back.

"Mycroft I told you no!" John yelled as the doors to the room were once again closed.

"Mycroft?" Leah looked at the man who rolled his eyes and looked at her. "That's Mr. Creepy."

John and Mycroft looked confused as Mary put a hand on Leah's shoulder and explained that Mycroft's full name was Mycroft Holmes. Leah kind of giggled and got the seriousness of the situation.

"Seriously? You're his brother?" She asked.

"Sherlock is my younger brother, yes." Mycroft said.

Leah shook her head and sat down on the bench and Mary sat next to her.

"I told you to leave her alone, Mycroft." John continued on with his angry tirade. "She just wants to settle."

"And I just want to make sure she knows what she's getting herself into with living with Sherlock." Mycroft replied.

"She'll be fine."

"How do you know? She could have lied about not knowing about Sherlock. She could be some sort of spy."

"A spy? She's a student! She's from New York and all she wants is to live without this." He motioned to Mycroft who again rolled his eyes.

Mary and Leah watched the whole exchange like movie-goers. Leah did not like being the center of attention, but all the while she began to slightly be mad at Mycroft. Before anything else could be said, the door once again burst open and this time Sherlock strode in, pointed at Leah and exclaimed:

"Your mother is not your real mother!"

Leah's mouth just dropped open and everyone else just stared at Sherlock. Stunned silence filled the room and Leah could feel her heart going into anxiety overdrive. Sherlock approached the group looking quite pleased with himself, but he soon felt that everything was not okay.

"Mycroft, what are you doing here?" Sherlock asked. Mycroft just sighed and shook his head. "You're not here to offer money to spy on me again are you?"

"I was here to welcome Leah to the city." Mycroft said. "However you seem to be doing a better job about that."

"Sherlock what do you mean that Leah's mother isn't her mother?" Mary asked, she had an arm wrapped around Leah's shoulders. Leah looked pale and about ready to throw up.

"Leah, what is your mother's name?" John asked.

"Maria Charon. She never took my father's name." Leah's voice felt small and she knew that she had said the name in barely a whisper.

Leah's world was now spinning. She let Mary hold onto her because if she didn't, Leah was sure that she would fall. With the news that her mother wasn't her real mother, Leah began to realize many things. When Leah was little she and Maria had had a great relationship. However when she turned ten, everything began to change. Maria became distant, even mean, to Leah and her father. Then when her father had died when she was sixteen, Maria became nonexistent to Leah. The distance had prompted Leah to go to Chicago to escape her and then to England to escape further, though she doubted that this was Maria's fault. Things began to fall into place and the one memory she kept going back to was the day her father had died. He had wanted to tell her something about Maria, but she interrupted them, and he had promised to tell her the truth when he got back from his meeting. However, he never did come back.

Tears began to build in Leah's eyes, but she wouldn't let them fall. Not here in front of strangers. She felt so far away now, like she was lost in the woods rather than far from home. She folded her arms across her chest and moved from under Mary's arm. She stood apart and looked at Sherlock.

"Why isn't she my real mom?" She asked, her voice breaking slightly. "Who is my real mom?"

"Your real mother, a woman named Rosalind Stanely, died when you were one. She too was from England and her family is quite prominent in the city. Your father met Maria here when you were two and married her when you turned three." Sherlock said.

"Stanely?" Leah echoed. She had seen the name before, from the apparent uncle who had left the small fortune to her. She really did have an uncle.

"Yes, this is only part of the investigation into your father's death." Sherlock went on. "I'll probably be done with that soon."

"Don't," Leah stammered. "Don't finish it. I don't want to know." She started heading out of the room and John gently grabbed her arm to stop her.

"Leah," He said but she just shook her head.

"No, everyone here has done enough. I'm just going to go now." She didn't look at anyone as she hurried out of the room with tears running down her cheeks.

Outside a crowd had formed due to the commotion that had built up in the room. Thousands of eyes now looked at Leah who stared back and then gave a frustrated yelp. She pushed through the crowd and out of the National Gallery, ignoring the calls for her to stop coming from behind her. The National Gallery opened up onto a packed Trafalgar Square and Leah quickly walked in the direction of Piccadilly Circus, a good few blocks away. She dug into her pocket as she wiped tears from her face with her free hand. Without looking she punched in a number and waited.

"Hello?" A tired voice asked after seven rings. "Leah, do you know how late it is?" Maria sounded irritated.

"You're not my mom." Leah had wanted to question this, but the more she walked and thought about it the more it became apparent. Slap in the face apparent.

There was silence on the other line and Leah waited, still walking furiously.

"Did Henry tell you that?" Henry was the man in charge of Leah's father's company. Unbeknownst to Maria, Leah had given all control of the company to her father's best friend before heading to England. He was the only one she really kept in contact now anymore.

"No. But I know now." Leah stopped as Piccadilly Circus with its traffic and Cupid fountain came into view. "And it all makes sense. How dare you lie me!" A few people stared at Leah as she yelled into the phone. "Even after dad died you lied! You kept it secret."

"It's what your father wanted, Leah." Maria now sounded tired and it only worked to further tick Leah off.

"He was going to tell me." Leah said. "The day he died. I know it."

"Okay." Maria replied. "I'm sorry I lied, I just thought it would be better if you didn't know." Leah felt some relief come with this, but she didn't stop.

"You're done Maria." She said. "You're done in my life. You can stop pretending you have a daughter."

"I never pretended-,"

"Sure you didn't."

"Leah wait!" Leah, who was about to hang up the phone in exasperation, put it back to her ear and waited. "I went to help with some of your tuition, but NYU said you weren't ever enrolled there. Where have you been going to school?"

Leah chuckled through the slow trickle of tears streaming down her face. "I bet you would like to know that." She hung up and continued walking and dialed in a new number.

"Hello?" This next voice didn't sound as sleep deprived as Maria's had sounded and Leah felt relieved to hear it.

"Did I wake you Henry?" She asked.

"Leah? No you didn't! How is England going?" Henry, a tall man with blond hair and bright blue eyes asked. He had been Leah's father's best friend growing up. He had even worked for her father and didn't mind it. He loved her father like a brother and treated Leah like a niece. He had encouraged her to keep the money given to her after the death of her uncle.

"Did you know that Maria wasn't my mom?" Leah asked and the line went quiet.

"I did, but I assumed your dad told you before he died. He didn't though, did he." Henry replied.

"Just found out." Leah gave a light laugh through her tears. "And I, uh, talked to her and am done with her."

"I'm sorry, Leah. If I would have known I would have told you." Henry sounded concern, but as Leah walked into a Tube station she shook her head.

"It's okay, I just want to make sure that she didn't have anything to do with Dad's company." Leah said, she stopped and walked out of the station and back towards the fountain.

"No, she sold her stocks shortly after your father died and just let you take care of it." There was a sound of a keyboard and Leah knew that Henry was still at work.

"As of right now you and I are the only 'family' have shares and control. Which basically is you, me, and your cousin Charlie." Henry said.

"Okay. She's going to start calling about me."

"I'll keep her off your trail."

"Thanks Henry."

With a heavy heart Leah said goodbye and walked into Piccadilly Circus, a fresh set of tears cascading down her face.


	5. Chapter 5

Hello and welcome back! Things are starting to speed up as Leah makes plan to visit some real family members, and Sherlock has some devious plans of his own! Thanks for reading!

 **Chapter 5: Friends**

John and Mary were in a frenzy to find Leah. Due to how the whole ordeal turned out, John made Mycroft and Sherlock help in the search. It didn't take long to find Leah still sitting in Piccadilly Circus on the fountain. She had sat there for a half an hour, moving around when large crowds of tourists came to take pictures. Mary had found her and phoned John who had Mycroft and Sherlock on tow. By now Leah had stopped crying and just looked tired and weary. She glared at both Mycroft and Sherlock as they came shortly behind John.

"You had us worried." John said. Mary looked up at him from where she and Leah were sitting.

"Can't really go anywhere." Leah replied. "I'm just going to go home now." She got up and Mary had looked into the fountain and stopped Leah.

"Is that your mobile sweetheart?" She asked and Leah didn't even look back.

"Yes. I had to get rid of it after I called Maria on it." She stopped in front of Mycroft who looked down at her coolly.

"Yes?" He asked after a few moments of stalled silence.

"I'm living at 221B Baker Street. I don't care if I'm not the right 'fit' for living with your brother. I'm not going to be bullied out of another apartment." She said sternly. The expression she had on her face was one of death: a deep glowering glare that caused Mycroft to take a small step back from her.

Seeing that her point had been made, Leah looked to Sherlock who stood prepared to take whatever tart response she had cooked up for him.

"Thank you, for finding out about my mother." Sherlock blinked and nodded to her. "What was the name of my real mother again?"

"Rosalind Stanely." Sherlock said.

"All right then. See you at home." Leah walked to the sidewalk and hailed a taxi. When she was gone, Mycroft cleared his throat.

"Well then, since my presence has been made I too shall be leaving." The sleek black car that had picked up John appeared and Mycroft got into quickly and left.

John, Mary and Sherlock were left in the busy square after that. They each looked at each other and soon Mary came and stood with John by Sherlock.

"Well that was great." John said, kicking a pebble on the ground. "I'm surprised Leah just didn't kill you." He looked to Sherlock who looked slightly sheepish.

"Why was it so important that you tell her now that her mother wasn't her mother now?" John asked in an exasperated tone.

"She believes that Maria and one of her friends killed her father." Sherlock replied. "It was part of the investigation."

"The one you're ending because she asked." Sherlock hesitated somewhat and John shook his head. "Don't go on with it Sherlock. Focus on Roland."

With the mention of Roland, gun shots rang into the square. Different pops and pings sounded as bullets were fired and ricocheted everywhere. John immediately dived for Mary and they hit the ground followed by Sherlock. People screamed as tourists and pedestrians ducked for cover and tried to hide from whoever was shooting. Stores in the square closed and locked its doors, opening only for people looking for cover. Broken glass showered the ground and cars began to run into buildings, poles, and people. In little over a minute the shooting was done and silence fell on the square.

Sherlock was first to stand up and look around wildly. There were too many people running in different directions for him to localize the shooter, but he deduced that the gunfire came from near the Tube entrance. He broke out into a run to see if he could find the shooter and end the madness created by the King of Gangs. John cried out after him, but Sherlock ignored him and came to a halt near a McDonalds. Bullet casings littered the ground, but there was little else.

"Did anyone see the shooter?" Sherlock called out to the frightened crowd that began to crawl out from the eatery. "Did someone see the shooter?!"

"It came from a car." A small voice answered him and Sherlock looked down at a small ten year old who approached him. "It came from a car and then it was gone."

Sherlock cursed under his breath as John and Mary joined him. Mary began to see to if anyone needed medical attention. At least three people had been wounded in the shootings and she quickly organized different people to help each other. Soon police began to arrive and Sherlock waited for Lestrade to show up. When he did, they both shared a look and Sherlock nodded. Roland knew exactly what had happened. And he probably had laughed about it.

"Sherlock, go home." John broke through Sherlock's thoughts and he turned and looked at him.

"Why?" He asked.

"What if they attack Baker Street? Mrs. Hudson and Leah are there." John said as he took off his jacket. "I'm going to stay here and help with this. I can talk to Lestrade."

Sherlock saw that knowledge in this and called a taxi and headed back to 221B.

Leah and Mrs. Hudson were sitting in the upstairs kitchen sharing tea and biscuits. As soon as she and entered the flat, Mrs. Hudson had come out and informed her that her little refrigerator had been delivered. Leah, instead, had revealed what Sherlock had revealed to her and produced a new shipment of tears that Mrs. Hudson quickly dried up. Now they sat in silence, taking in all that had happened that day. Leah was on her third cup of extremely sweetened tea when Sherlock burst in and stared at them wildly.

"What's up?" Leah asked as Sherlock joined them, instantly pouring himself a cup of tea.

"Oh just a shooting. Right after you had left." Sherlock mused nonchalantly.

"Say what?" Leah exclaimed and Mrs. Hudson dropped her tea cup on the table.

"Nothing too extreme. Three people wounded. All part of a gang war and some gang lord in the hospital is pulling the strings. I just don't know how yet." Again Leah looked at Sherlock with her mouth open and Mrs. Hudson looked quite pale.

"I'm ending this strange day early." Leah got up and headed up to her room, leaving a puzzled Sherlock with the close-to-fainting Mrs. Hudson.

Sherlock looked to Mrs. Hudson who began to pour herself another cup of tea, but rather shakily.

"It was only a shooting." He told her and she put her cup down rather hard on her saucer.

"A shooting Sherlock! You could have died! For real this time!" She shook her head vigorously as she stood up and left the room.

Sherlock looked puzzled as he finished his cup of tea. It was only a shooting, he thought to himself. He stood up and began once again to pace in the living room. How was Roland pulling strings? Who really had been shooting in the circus? He racked his brain trying hard to think of who at the hospital Roland had access to. It had to be someone they had missed, a shady character who was slipping past them in the corner of their eyes. It really angered Sherlock, but he realized that he had been distracted by the investigation of Leah's father. Now that she had ordered the end to that, perhaps he could concentrate on actually stopping Roland's madness for power.

Leah came down the stairs holding an iPod and earphones. She looked to Sherlock who stared back at her intently. Blinking, Leah moved to her right, followed by Sherlock, then to her left, followed again by Sherlock.

"Are we playing Leah Says?" Leah asked.

Sherlock blinked and then scoffed at the very thought of it. "No." He said.

"Good, because you would lose." She planted an earbud into her ear and headed into the kitchen. She scrolled through her iPod, found the song she wanted and pocketed it.

Sherlock watched Leah as she began to clean the teapot and other dishes that had been left on the table. For just finding out that her mother was not in fact her real true mother, and that the real one had been dead for quite some time, Sherlock thought that she was taking it very well. But other indicators, like the swelling and redness of the eyes and the complete aversion of looking at him, showed that she was still reeling from the news. He continued his pacing, but now watched Leah closely.

"You seem to be doing well with the news of Maria." Sherlock finally said.

"Yeah well if you had lived with her and that popped up, you would understand." Leah replied to this without looking up from her dishes. She placed many of them on a towel to dry and then turned to look at Sherlock. "She stopped being motherly."

Sherlock pretended not to hear, he had turned his back to her and was looking out the window.

"Why do you care?" He turned and looked expectantly at Leah.

"I don't care." Leah said. "Well I guess I do, but I knew that I was going to get the truth. My dad was going to tell me but he died." She looked to the ground and then glared back at Sherlock. "Why do you care?" She asked and Sherlock blinked.

"I don't. I was only curious." He answered and Leah shook her head.

"You don't like me." This caught Sherlock off guard. She had said this with a surety in her voice and though she did not look at him, Sherlock knew that she actually did believe it.

He said nothing though. His opinion about her didn't matter. Once school started they would hardly see each other. And, as Sherlock had told John earlier, he didn't need anymore friends. He could see Leah withdrawing more and more and he wondered what really did happen with her last home, but he pushed it from his mind. He didn't have time to wonder about his flatmate that he didn't want to be friends with. He had friends, four or five of them and that was just enough for him.

Leah left the room, heading back to her room. She wanted to find solace after the trying day that she had had. Outside the afternoon sun blazed down on pedestrians and shoppers, but Leah drew the curtains of her room and laid on the bed. The music of her iPod pounded itself in her ears and she looked at the ceiling. The meaning of life wasn't in the bare walls or even the ceiling, but she felt that not doing anything prevented anything else bad from happening.

Maria kept bouncing in her mind. As did her father and the things she had missed out with him. The prospect of living in England caused her a panic attack and though she pushed it out she knew that once school started that everything would be okay. The many thoughts in her head led Leah to believe that her life would never be easy. There would always be something or someone trespassing into her life to mess it up. She had hoped for friends to help with that. She was a little hurt that she and Sherlock were not friends, but she battled it with a feeling that at some point they would be. She did not want to repeat Chicago where she was friends with her roommates at the beginning and then bitter enemies at the end. Perhaps this would lead to a better ending, but Leah was being pessimistic at the moment.

Who would want to be friends with her? She was clumsy and extremely quiet. Yet this led to her being observant and quietly smart. She learned things relatively fast and retained information presented to her in the briefest of lectures. She had little fears, and the biggest one she had was of Maria and her friend that had helped in ruining her life. She shuddered at the thought and wrapped her blankets around her.

I am in England. I am safe. No one will ruin my life here.

She thought back to her mother's real name. Rosalind Stanley. What had Sherlock said? They were still a prominent family in London? Though the day was not over, Leah was done. She decided that for the rest of the week she would find out about the Stanleys and even try to see if she could meet with some of the older family members. With that thought she relaxed and listened to the music booming in her ears. For that moment, she forgot about the bad things in her life and focused on the lighter prospects of the future.

And all the while, Sherlock paced.

For the next week, Leah and Sherlock only interacted when passing by or happened to be in the same room when a stream of thought happened. Sherlock tended to randomly ask rhetorical questions and Leah would respond, furthering his train of thought as she sat in the kitchen with her laptop. Sherlock was getting closer in his investigation, but so was Leah. She was investigating her mother's family and was getting answers that she found interesting and somewhat full of anxiety.

The anxiety came from what Leah had to do next. She found out that her mother was the fourth of five children. She had two older brothers an older sister and then a younger sister. One of the brothers had passed away a few years ago, an accomplished business man named Reynold who had no children. Leah figured that this had been the uncle to leave her the money and made a note of it. Her mother's older sister, a woman named Amelia, lived in the city and her phone number was listed on the website she had found.

Leah knew that she had to contact them. To establish this family bond would help a lot of things in her life, but there were questions. Questions like: Would she even be welcome? Would she bring up bitter and sad memories? Would she be accepted? Would she be believed that she was Rosalind's daughter? The number of questions began to build up and so did the fear and anxiety that followed it. Finally, after sitting on the notion for few days, Leah grabbed her cell phone and dialed the number listed for Amelia Stanley-Rounds.

 _Ring_

Leah clutched the arms of the chair she was sitting in. Across the room on the couch, Sherlock gazed at her with a bored expression.

 _Ring_

Leah looked to Sherlock who regarded her with a now blank expression as some thought caught his mind.

 _Ring_

Time was slowing down and Leah was about to hang up the phone when someone answered the phone.

"Hello?" A petite womanly voice answered.

"Um yes, hello." Leah stammered out and then paused. "My-My name is Leah Silver. I was wondering if Amelia Stanley-Rounds lived at this number."

"Well my name is Amelia," The woman replied skeptically. "But this is my mobile."

"Oh, I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have called." Leah was about to hang up in an embarrassed fashion when the woman called out for her to wait.

"I'm sorry, but did you say your last name was Silver?" Amelia asked.

"Y-yes." Leah responded.

"Charles Silver?" She asked. Her tone of voice was skeptical, like Leah was playing a cruel joke on her.

"Yeah, he was my dad and my mother was Rosalind Stanely." Leah had thought it weird to hear her father's real name. However she did feel hopeful that the woman on the other line knew her father's name.

The line was silent for a long time and Leah feared that Amelia had hung up, not amused because she felt like she was being taken as a fool. Had many people approached this woman about the Silver family? Had she been spurned by many who claimed things about being a Silver? Leah herself was about to hang up herself and half heartedly return to her room when the woman cleared her throat and spoke:

"I'm doing some business in town today, could I meet you later on today? Perhaps at the Rainbow Cafe?" Leah remembered the place from her time exploring Piccadilly Circus and she nodded vigorously.

"Yes." She said quickly, realizing that her nodding could not be perceived on the other end. "What time will work for you?"

"Five o'clock. See you then, Leah."

"See you." The line clicked as Amelia hung up and Leah stared at her phone in slight disbelief.

Had that really happened? Was she about to make a family connection? A surge of excitement pulsed inside her as she turned to Sherlock who had been watching her silently for a time. He still laid on the couch, but he did not move. He only watched as Leah looked to him, grinned and stood up from the chair, suddenly rejuvenated.

"You're going to go meet your aunt." He said and Leah nodded. "Is she skeptical?"

"A little," Leah said. "I don't think she really believes me." Leah bit her lip in this thought and began to have a small panic attack about it.

"Perhaps bringing pictures will help." Sherlock mused and Leah looked at him strangely.

"You want me out again. Don't you." She said, folding her arms across her chest.

Sherlock didn't say anything, but diverted his look from her to the ceiling and then to the door of the flat. He stared at it for a long time, as if he was expecting someone.

"One day, I'm going to punch you." Leah muttered under her breath as she headed upstairs to gather some pictures for Amelia.

Sherlock glared after her but cleared his face when Lestrade came striding up the stairs. Sherlock immediately straightened up and stood as Lestrade entered the room and looked around.

"Where's the new mate?" Lestrade asked in a quiet voice. A coy smile crossed his face and disappeared quickly when he saw Sherlock's bemused expression.

"She's not my mate." He muttered as Leah came down the stairs. She held a photo album in her hands and had a light blue jacket in the crook of her arm.

"Oh, hi." She stopped at the foot of the stairs and looked at Lestrade. "Are you one of Sherlock's friends?"

Sherlock jumped across and put his arm around Lestrade and agreed. "Yes, this is Detective Inspector Lestrade. My friend." He stressed the word friend and Leah narrowed her eyes at him.

"Nice to meet you sir." She wiped the sour look from her face and smiled at Lestrade and shook her hand. "I'm Leah Silver."

"Pleasure, Leah." Lestrade felt awkward under Sherlock's heavy arm and tried to smile without showing it.

There was a feeling of intense tension filled the room. Leah sorted of shifted from foot to foot and Lestrade finally moved Sherlock's arm.

"Well Leah, you better be off." Sherlock said as he headed into the kitchen to make tea. "Lestrade probably has a murder to tell me about."

Leah's face showed that she didn't really care. That and she did not like the way Sherlock was speaking as if she wouldn't understand the deep mechanisms he was involved in. She looked to Lestrade who tried to give her a comforting smile and quietly assure her that this was normal. Instead, Leah just sighed, as if she was bothered by Sherlock's antics, and scurried past Lestrade.

"That's my cue then. I got to go meet an aunt. It was nice to meet you, Detective Inspector." She nodded to Lestrade who nodded back. Then Leah was gone, down the stairs and out into the muggy afternoon air.

"That wasn't very nice Sherlock." Lestrade said as he entered the kitchen to receive his cup of tea. "And it's not a murder I want to talk to you about."

Sherlock looked extremely disappointed that there wasn't another murder. He set down some cups and other utensils rather hard and watched as Lestrade watched him.

"It's a threat." Sherlock looked up. "Yes, a threat." Lestrade repeated. "Roland wants you to stop whatever you're doing or else something bad is going to happen."

"To me?" Sherlock raised an eyebrow but Lestrade shrugged.

"That's all he said."

Sherlock mused on this for a moment. I must have struck a cord, he thought to himself. Someone I dug up, someone or something I am investigating has struck close to closing this. Sherlock rushed across to the laptop sitting by the window and began typing furiously. Lestrade mosied around the room, waiting for Sherlock to somehow solve the case all within his flat. But the silence grew and Sherlock soon sat down, looking quite intently at the floor.

"Anything?" Lestrade asked, almost hopefully.

"Something, but I have to look at it more." Sherlock replied. An idea had gone off in his head, but he wanted to wait. He wanted to have all his information before going on the offense.


End file.
